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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817529">steadfast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin'>LadyMerlin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RoyEd Month 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Day 3, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, RoyEd Month 2020, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:42:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy puts one hand on the small of Ed’s back and the other on Ed’s thigh, completing the array between their bodies, a type of alchemy Father would never have understood.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edward Elric/Roy Mustang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RoyEd Month 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>RoyEd month</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>steadfast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The prompt for Day 3 of RoyEd Month 2020: “I love you. Remember. They cannot take it.” - Lauren Oliver</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“If you could alchemise anything, what would it be?” </p><p>It’s a beautiful Saturday morning, and the weekend ahead looks gloriously quiet. Both Roy and Ed are, at heart, academics, and so, such questions and thought exercises are fairly common-place in their household.  “Are there any restrictions?” Roy asks, giving Ed his full attention. </p><p>Ed shakes his head. “Nope. Forget equivalent exchange, I don’t care about arrays or practicality or usefulness. Anything in the world, just by willing it.” </p><p>“I’ll get back to you on that,” Roy promises. He will. It’s not a question so easily answered, and he thinks Ed knows that. </p><p>-</p><p>Evening finds Roy sitting in his favourite armchair, dozing in front of a fire; one of life’s small luxuries. An old record is playing on a gramophone in the corner of the room. The door creaks open but Roy doesn’t open his eyes; he can recognise Ed’s tread in his sleep. </p><p>“Dinner?” Ed asks, keeping his tone low and soft. </p><p>Roy hums but doesn’t speak. He’s not particularly hungry, and certainly not enough to make him move from his perfectly comfortable position. </p><p>“Can I sit?” Ed asks, like Roy could ever answer in anything but the affirmative. He pries open an eye and squints at Ed, before stretching an arm out in invitation. </p><p>Ed doesn’t hesitate, just slides into Roy’s lap, sitting on Roy’s right so that his legs are perpendicular to Roy’s thighs, hanging over the side of the armchair. The position means there’s nowhere for him to lean, so Ed leans sideways against Roy’s chest instead, head resting on Roy’s shoulder, palm flat against Roy’s shoulder. </p><p>His weight is achingly familiar; perfectly known. </p><p>Roy puts one hand on the small of Ed’s back and the other on Ed’s thigh, completing the array between their bodies, a type of alchemy Father would never have understood. </p><p>Ed exhales lightly as he eases his weight against Roy’s body, deliberately relaxing his shoulders and spine, melting into place. Roy turns his head slightly to press his lips against Ed’s forehead, barely a kiss, just another sweet point of contact. </p><p>“Had a productive day, my darling?” Roy murmurs, when he finds his voice again. </p><p>Ed’s fingers catch the fabric of Roy’s shirt and hold tight. He shakes his head. “I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere but I was still hoping, y’know?” </p><p>“I do know,” Roy sympathises, stroking down the length of Ed’s hair. “The same way I know that you’ll get there, in the end. A single unsuccessful day, or even a week isn’t going to defeat you.” </p><p>Ed clicks his tongue in frustration. “It just doesn’t make sense, I don’t understand how it works, and nothing is making sense anymore. I still have another three texts to get through tonight but the words aren’t making sense anymore, and I’m so fuckin’ tired, Roy.” </p><p>“Take a break, love. You don’t need to read the texts tonight. They’ll still be there tomorrow, or next week. Recharge, for a bit. It’ll do you good.” </p><p>Ed hums and doesn’t respond, and Roy knows better than to take it as a challenge; he’s processing a thought. He knows by now, better than to expect an immediate answer. For someone with a reputation for being impulsive like Ed, he’s surprisingly thoughtful and considered in his actions. Roy doesn’t like thinking about the circumstances that made Ed act the way he usually did, if it’s so far from his natural state. </p><p>Roy shakes his head and closes his eyes, listening to the orchestra playing on his gramophone, underlaid by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. There’s almost a pattern to the sounds it makes, and that’s an interesting thought; one which he might pursue, another time. A thought worthy of the flame alchemist. He considers getting up to find his notebook, but he’s just too comfortable here, half-pinned under Ed’s weight. He doesn’t want to go anywhere and risk disturbing him. </p><p>“Can I stay here for a bit?” Ed asks, moments later. Roy blinks. What an absolutely bizarre question. </p><p>“Yes of course, Ed. As long as you like, I’m hardly complaining.” Roy lifts his hand around Ed’s back to stroke his hair again, this time carding his fingers through it and curling it around the side of his palm when he reaches the end of Ed’s long ponytail. It’s thick, and rough, and soft, and it smells like shampoo and sulphur - a common combination for Ed. He kisses Ed’s forehead again, just because he can. </p><p>“You’re a sap, aren’t you,” Ed says, and it’s more of an accusation than a question. </p><p>“You knew that when you married me, love,” Roy replies, knowing that it’s a compliment even when it doesn’t sound like one. He <em> knows </em> Ed, as well as he knows the back of his own hand. </p><p>“Disgusting,” Ed whispers, before he kisses Roy’s jaw, just below his ear, where he has always been supremely ticklish. He squirms slightly and bites his lower lip to stop the undignified shriek that’s threatening to escape, and Ed does it again, and then nibbles at his earlobe, which is a slightly more acceptable form of affection. “You’re so gross,” he whispers when he’s done sucking on Roy’s earlobe, blowing the words straight into his ear, and then, “relax.” </p><p>Roy hadn’t realised his fingers were digging into the meat of Ed’s thigh, but as he releases them, he realises there’s definitely something to be said for how quickly his husband manages to get him worked up. “Minx,” he whispers back. “Kiss me properly?” </p><p>Ed doesn’t answer, just shifts so that he’s sitting in Roy’s lap, thighs folded into the crevasses of the armchair on either side of Roy’s hips, their chests pressed together. Ed is at the perfect height for Roy to look into his eyes, and the magnetism is ineffable. They meet in the middle, softly. </p><p>It’s the softest, most loving kiss, and it’s devastating. There’s no fire or possessiveness, no fury, no teeth. They kiss because they can, because they want to, because it’s like a secret language just between them; they’re talking without words. Roy’s hands are flat on Ed’s back and Ed’s hands are fisted in Roy’s shirt but there’s no tugging or struggling, no one is being restrained or manhandled. They both know this isn’t going to go any further, and that’s fine because Roy knows neither of them want to be doing anything <em> but </em> this. </p><p>It’s kissing, no ‘just’ about it, and Roy drinks Ed sweetly in until he feels his heart might burst from the feeling, and the only thing keeping him from floating away is Ed’s weight in his lap and his fingers clenched in Roy’s shirt. They kiss lazily, slowly, until Ed is fairly trembling before they finally break the kiss. Ed’s lips are swollen, obvious even in the low flickering light cast by the fire, and it takes everything in Roy to not kiss him again, and instead to stroke his lips with a gentle thumb. </p><p>“Darling,” he whispers softly, curling his palm around Ed’s jaw. “My darling,” he says again, and pulls Ed into a hug. Ed melts into him and slides his hands behind Roy’s back, hugging Roy as tightly as Roy is hugging him. Roy presses a kiss against Ed’s neck and laughs lightly when he notices what Ed is wearing for the first time. “I can’t decide whether I hate this sweater or I love it,” he says as he presses another kiss against Ed’s shoulder, where his sweater is worn and hole-y, baring patches of warm golden skin. He stops. </p><p>“Roy?” Ed asks, noticing the abrupt silence. </p><p>Roy shakes his head and strokes his hand down Ed’s back, trying to soothe him again. “No, it’s nothing. It’s just. When I kiss you there, I can hear your heart,” he says so softly, that if Ed weren’t pressed up against him, he wouldn’t have heard. </p><p>Ed hums lightly, but doesn’t say anything, so Roy does it again, and then tugs Ed’s sweater off his shoulder so he can keep doing it. Ed huffs but his heartbeat gives him away; strong and unyielding. “I can hear your heartbeat,” Roy whispers again, like it’s some sort of miracle instead of an essential organ that everyone has. </p><p>And maybe it is. A miracle, that is. That Ed’s heart is still beating, despite everything, and that Roy is still here to hear it. He presses a gentle finger against the base of Ed’s throat where his pulse is throbbing, just below his skin, and sighs lightly before gathering Ed into his arms and pulling him back into a hug. He nuzzles against the crook of Ed’s neck and tries not to be weird about it. He’s not sure he succeeds when Ed’s hands slide up his back and tangle in his hair, scratching lightly along his scalp. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, closing his eyes and humming. </p><p>“I love you, Roy. You know I do, right?” Ed sounds uncharacteristically uncertain. “Even when I call you bastard and asshole all the time, I really do love you.” He sounds like he’s trying to reassure Roy, and that really cannot stand. </p><p>“I know, Ed. Don’t worry, I know. And I love you.” After the Promised Day, Roy had never doubted what Ed was <em> really </em> saying when he swore at Roy. He fancies himself a bit of an Edward-translation expert. </p><p>Ed must hear that there isn’t even a shadow of doubt in Roy’s voice, because he relaxes again, leaning against Roy so that he can listen to Ed’s heartbeat as much as he wants to. It’s strong and regular and Roy feels himself drifting away to the sound of it, when suddenly he remembers the question Ed had asked him that morning. If he could alchemise anything in the world… </p><p>“Music,” he replies, half-asleep. </p><p>There’s a moment when the only thing he can hear is the sound of an orchestra swelling and swelling like a wave about to break. </p><p>There’s a gentle hand against his cheek, and Roy falls asleep to the sound of a soft laugh and a steady heartbeat.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Send love please!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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